


Lesson Learned

by devera



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-28
Updated: 2012-01-28
Packaged: 2018-11-11 15:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11151354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devera/pseuds/devera
Summary: Ezio bites off more than he can chew. Or something like that.





	Lesson Learned

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the ACkinkmeme prompt: _Leonardo is in his workshop poring over anatomy sketches of the male sex organs. As you do. Ezio comes in and makes an offhand remark about how much Leonardo actually knows about sex, as you do, and Leonardo decides to experiment on Ezio to find out how many times he can come before he has no more juice left. As you do._

Ezio had not thought he had limits. Certainly, he has attempted to explore them, with noblemen's sweet daughters, with whores, on occasions where drink made him demonstrative and neither daughters nor whores were available, even with his friends. Each pursuit had been pleasurable of course but he has never, in all his exploits, reached a point where he has had enough.  
  
He has reached that point.  
  
It does not matter how he has found himself here. That is a tale for another time and possibly one that he may never be able to relate. Suffice it to say, a joke about Leonardo's possibly misdirected study of the male sex perhaps being better served on a _live_ specimen has somehow ended in this – Ezio naked upon Leonardo's chaise in his studio, sunlight streaming over his skin, his wrists tied securely and well over the arm of the chair and anchored around its legs, his bare thighs spread and Leonardo between them. Leonardo's mouth around his sex, moving, sucking, and Ezio making more noise than he remembers ever having made before.   
  
He is full of sensation, and no longer convinced that sensation is pleasure. He has already reached completion two - or perhaps it has been three – times and still Leonardo mouths at his over-sensitive flesh. When he tries to twitch away, Leonardo clamps shockingly strong hands on his thighs, slides his _obscenely_ swollen mouth off, stares up at Ezio with flushed, knife bright features and calmly threatens to tie Ezio's legs down as well.  
  
"I cannot," Ezio gasps, unable to say what it is he cannot do except to say it is everything. He cannot think, he cannot breathe, he cannot feel his feet, he cannot escape the pinch of a nerve that is sending firework flares of discomfort shooting through his hip, and he _certainly_ cannot become stiff again.  
  
"Oh, I think you can," Leonardo says, choosing perhaps that last to answer as he smiles a smile better found on a devil than a man of his learning. He uses his grip on Ezio's legs to drag him further down the chaise so that he may lift them over his shoulders and thereby tilt Ezio's hips up. "There is a certain part of the anatomy I have yet to explore."  
  
"What?" Ezio gasps and then jerks at the feel of Leonardo's fingers at the entrance to his body. "No! But that is not-"  
  
"Shh…" Leonardo urges softly, rubbing and pressing and Ezio struggles for breath again as his body shudders under the new sensation. "Shh, Ezio. It is quite all right. This will feel good, I assure you. Relax. Open your legs for me. Yes…"  
  
"Oh God, Oh Christ, please," Ezio hears himself chant as Leonardo's fingers push and then enter him. He tries to squirm away from the sensation, but between his arms stretched above his head and his legs flung over Leonardo's shoulders, he only manages to change the angle of his hips and all of a sudden there is a different sensation altogether flooding his body, one that makes him forget all else.  
  
Sound leaps from his throat and his entire body jerks in reaction and, Christ, Mother of Christ, what is that? What was that?  
  
"There, you see?" Leonardo says roughly, his eyes so dark they are like night. "And look."  
  
Dazedly, Ezio looks.  
  
Oh, Christ. He is hard.  
  
"No," he pants, staring into Leonardo's smiling face as his sex bobs red and turgid between them. "No, Leonardo, please. I cannot…"  
  
"Shh," Leonardo hushes him again. "You can. You will."  
  
When he lowers his head this time and opens his mouth around Ezio's cock, he also pushes with his fingers as he sucks, once, twice, three times. He kneels up and leans forward and _rocks_ his weight into the cradle of Ezio's hips and there are no words then to describe the agony of heat, the level of desperation abruptly crowding Ezio's brain. His body is no longer his to command. It pushes itself towards Leonardo's mouth, spears itself down on his fingers, trembles and shakes and shudders and writhes and he _must_ have- He cannot- Please make it stop, oh dear _God_ it is like fucking, Leonardo is _fucking him_ , and _harder_ , more, please, please, _please_ …  
  
"Ezio!" Leonardo grates and Ezio chokes in a breath and looks down at him and-   
  
Leonardo's wicked, torturously wicked mouth is right there, his lips are _right there_ against the tip of Ezio's sex, brushing the inflamed skin breathing across the moist head. The hand not thrusting rhythmically into Ezio's body over and over again against that impossible place that makes Ezio quake and burn is wrapped around him in a tight fist, sliding slick with the fluids he has already spilled, up and down, up and down, and Ezio is going to _die_ , he feels certain of it.  
  
"Ezio," Leonardo says again, his voice almost not recognisable. "You are breathtaking. Come for me. Come again. Yes, that's it, come on…"  
  
Ezio feels it like a powder keg explosion in his loins, hot and lethal and frightening, as he arches his spine and the chair groans in protest and Leonardo's fingers press upon that place inside him and _keep pressing_ , following the bow of his body as his sex spasms again and again against Leonardo's open mouth with no issue of fluid at all.  
  
"Oh, that's it, that's it," Leonardo soothes through the haze of Ezio's blinded awareness. "Good boy. Beautiful boy. That's it. Shh. It's all right now."  
  
Ezio's breaths have turned to sobs. It should be mortifying, but he cannot seem to help it and he cannot seem to care.  
  
"Leonardo. Leonardo," he mumbles, and feels his legs slump down, and then his arms, and then he is lying, twitching and panting and curled in Leonardo's embrace as Leonardo kisses his face and murmurs more words that Ezio drifts too far from to hear, but he is so content, so heavy and full inside, that he may never move again. He will just lie here, protected in Leonardo's arms, until the end of time.  
  
"Lovely boy," Leonardo sighs against his temple after a time, and Ezio breathes him in – scents of oil and soil and lavender – and _hmm's_ back, nuzzling into the soft cushion of Leonardo's shoulder.   
  
"Lovely, silly boy," Leonardo murmurs again, and there is a warmth of affection in his voice that makes Ezio burrow closer under the soft stroking of the painter's hands over his sweaty, trembling skin. "Do you pay no attention at all to rumour? Do you not understand what fire it is you play with? All your conquests, and there is still almost a decade between us, and you still have much, _much_ to learn."  
  
And he does, Ezio thinks muzzily, have much to learn. And Leonardo da Vinci makes a fine and patient teacher.


End file.
